Merde!
by paulmcuk
Summary: Natalie gets a shot at being a correspondent for a major world sporting event. She makes some new friends and saves the whole event from disaster. She also manages to get in a little shopping.


Authors Note: The action in this story takes place during the 1998 World Cup in France. Such sporting facts as there are have been dredged from an extremely unreliable memory, so any similarity between this story and actual events is therefore entirely coincidental - particularly with regard to the dance of the big orange balls.

Oh yes. It is interesting to note that Sabrina Lloyd was actually in France at around the time of the World Cup and correctly predicted that the hosts would win. So jolly well done Sabrina.

"You wanted to see me?" asked Natalie.

"I did indeed" said Dana. "Sit down."

Natalie remained standing. "Am I fired?"

"Of course not."

"Has someone died?"

"No!"

"Then why do you want me to sit down?"

"I thought you might be more comfortable."

"Why do I need to be comfortable?"

"To stop you being UNcomfortable."

"And that's all?"

"That's all."

"No bad news?"

"No bad news."

"Ok then." Natalie sat down.

"Thank you" said Dana.

"No problem. So what did you want to see me about?"

"What do you know about soccer?"

"Soccer?"

"Yes soccer. International soccer to be precise."

"Not a lot."

"But you know something?"

"I know a little."

"Who won the last World Cup?"

"Brazil."

"Good enough."

"Good enough for what?"

"Good enough for our correspondent on this year's tournament."

"But I'm not a correspondent, I'm a producer."

"Producers I've got. I need a correspondent."

"Why."

"Because its a busy time. Just about every sport on the planet has decided to have its major championship in June. I don't have enough bodies to go round."

"But why do you need a correspondent at all? Can't we just buy-in footage?"

"We are, for the pictures. But I want daily reports from someone on the spot."

"Why?"

"Because it looks good. It looks professional. That way Dan and Casey can say, And now we have a report from our soccer correspondent in Paris'."

"But.... Did you say Paris?"

"I certainly did."

"Paris, France?"

"Well it sure aint in Texas."

"When do I leave?"

When Natalie left Dana's office she bumped into Dan.

"Hey Dan."

"Hey Natalie. You look pleased with yourself."

"I am."

"Is there a reason for this?"

"I'm going to be a correspondent."

"Really? Reporting on what?"

"The World Cup."

"The World Cup of what?"

"Soccer."

"Soccer? That's the one with the round ball right?"

"I can see why you got the job as anchor on a sports show."

"Hey, I know enough to get by."

"Really? Who are the reigning champions?"

"USA?"

"Hardly."

"Well what do YOU know about soccer?"

"Enough."

"Alright them. Who ARE the reigning champions?"

"Brazil. They beat Italy in a penalty shoot-out when both sides failed to score in regular or extra time."

"How come you're such an expert."

"I used to date this French guy, Jean-Paul. He was over here when the last world cup was on. He was crazy about soccer. He didn't move from in front of the TV for the whole tournament. After a while some of it started to sink in."

"Why did you break up?"

"Partly because he wouldn't move from in front of the TV for the whole tournament."

"Well I'm glad I wasn't lined up for the job."

"That's just because it would mean you couldn't cover the beach volleyball."

"The thought never crossed my mind."

"Well I'm really looking forward to it."

"I can see that. I'm just not sure why."

"Don't you know where the tournament is being held?"

"Somewhere nice?"

"Oh yeah."

"Where?"

"France."

"France?"

"Yep. That's where Paris is don't you know."

"Wow. That might just be worth missing the beach volleyball for."

After leaving Dan, Natalie just had to tell Jeremy the news. "Guess what" she said when she found him.

"What?"

"Go on guess."

"Well give me a clue."

"No."

"It could be anything."

"I know. Guess."

"Ok. Is Dana having an affair with the guy who played Doogie Howser MD?"

"No."

"Has the Whitehouse announced that the entire Reagan era was just a practical joke?"

"No."

"Has Mickey Mouse finally got Minnie pregnant?"

"Nope."

"Has he got YOU pregnant?"

"That's between me and Mickey. Guess again."

"Has Atlantis risen from the depths and turned out to be populated entirely by game show hosts?"

"Nope."

"Natalie, this could take a while and we have a show to get out in six hours."

"Alright I'll tell you."

"Thank you."

"I'm going to Paris to report on the World Cup."

"The World Cup?"

"Yep. Isn't that great?"

"But isn't the World Cup in June?"

"Yes."

"Haven't you forgotten something?"

"I don't think so."

"I think you have?"

"Remind me."

"June is when we're supposed to be going camping."

"I know."

"You hadn't forgotten."

"Told you."

"Would you really rather spend two weeks watching soccer than spend two weeks camping with me?"

"It depends. We're we going to go camping in Paris?"

"No."

"Sorry, you lose."

A little later Dan encountered Jeremy looking a little morose.

"Hi Jeremy?" he said.

"Hi."

"I was talking to Natalie earlier."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She told me about the World Cup thing."

"Did she?"

"Yes." Dan stood there looking around for a moment. He shuffled his feet. He whistled a tuneless tune.

"Something on your mind Dan?" asked Jeremy.

"Sort of."

"What is it?"

"Well I was just wondering about something."

"Yeah?"

"This World Cup thing."

"What about it?"

"Are we in it?"

"What do you mean are we in it?"

"Us. The USA. Are we in it?"

"Yes Dan. We are in it."

"So Natalie might get to report on a US victory?"

"No Dan. She won't."

"No? Oh well, its a stupid game anyway."

"Whatever you say."

"Still. At least she gets to go to Paris."

"Yeah."

"You don't sound to enthusiastic."

"I'm not."

"Why?"

"It's in June."

"Is that bad?"

"We're supposed to be going camping in June."

"Oh."

"Can you believe she's passing up our camping trip to go to Paris?"

"Did you really ask that question?"

"I think so."

"Do you need me to answer?"

"I guess not. But you understand my feelings right?"

"Sure I do."

"I'm going to miss her."

"Of course you are."

"Then there are all those French guys."

"True." Dan couldn't resist the urge to turn Jeremy's agony up a notch. "By the way, did she tell you about Jean-Paul?"

"Who's Jean-Paul?"

"Just an old boyfriend."

"No, she didn't mention him."

"Oh" said Dan. He paused before adding "He's French."

After Natalie had arrived in Paris and checked into her hotel she sat down to consider what she should do next. What, she wondered, does a top sports correspondent do on arrival in Paris? The answer was obvious. She goes shopping.

After her credit cards had had their exercise, Natalie returned to the hotel. It was still quite early so she decided to go down to the bar. She marvelled at the age of the hotel. It was far and away the oldest building she had ever been in with parts of it dating back to 1800. The opulence of former times was still in evidence, if a little faded now. Natalie was still taking all these details in when she entered the bar, which explains why she promptly walked into a man carrying a tray of drinks and caused him to spill them all.

"Oh God I'm sorry" she said.

The man turned to her and looked for a moment like he was going to tell her where she could put her apology. But when he saw her he quickly changed his mind. "Think nothing of it" he said with an English accent. "I'm quite sure I could forgive that face anything."

Natalie smiled at the compliment. "Anything?" she asked.

The man stood back and considered her face as if he were observing a work of art in a gallery. "Just about anything" he said.

Natalie laughed. "Well forgiven or not I must at least replace your drinks."

"Nonsense" said the man. "My personal code of honour, and my generous expense account, insists that I buy YOU a drink."

"Well if you insist."

"I do."

"Then I'll have a beer, thanks."

They went to the bar and the man re-ordered his drinks, plus Natalie's beer.

"Frank Kane" he said introducing himself, "The Times."

"Natalie Hurley" replied Natalie, "Continental Sports Channel."

"American eh?"

"You noticed that?"

"I did. Are you here for the footie?"

"The whatie?"

"The football."

"Oh the soccer, yes."

Frank winced. "Football please" he said, "not soccer."

"I'll try and remember."

"So have you come to educate your compatriots about the beautiful game?"

"Something like that. Although I'm not sure how many of them will listen."

"Ah well, you can but try."

When the barman had served their drinks and Frank had loaded up his tray again he invited Natalie to join him. "Just me and few friends" he said, "all in the business."

Natalie hesitated for a moment wondering whether it was just the first stage of a come on and she wasn't really in the mood to spend all night beating off his advances. Frank was, she guessed, about forty five, tallish, going slightly grey. He was probably good looking in his day she thought but she certainly didn't fancy him. But she decided she would probably be safe enough. Frank would certainly flirt but he was no threat. Rakish was the word that seemed to sum him up. Besides, she reasoned, she was far from expert on the world of soccer and it wouldn't hurt to make a few contacts. She followed him to a table in the corner where there were three other men sat. They stood up when they saw Frank and Natalie approach.

"Ah Frank" said one in a French accent, "we were wondering where you had got to."

"I encountered a charming diversion" he said.

"So I see" said the Frenchman. "Would you care to introduce us?"

"Certainly" said Frank. "Gentlemen, this is Natalie Hurley of the Continental Sports Channel."

"Hi" said Natalie and shook hands with each of the men in turn as they introduced themselves.

"Pascal Lefevre, Le Monde."

"Otto Hammill, Der Berliner."

"Benito Visconti, Gazetta de la Sport."

"Wow" said Natalie, "a regular United Nations."

"You are American?" asked Otto when they had all sat down.

"You sound surprised."

"I am."

"We do have a squad competing you know."

"We know that" said Benito. "And I'm sure the American players know it too. It's just that we didn't think anyone else in America knew it."

"Well they do" said Natalie. "And if they don't, they will by the time I've finished with them."

"Good for you" said Frank.

There followed a thoroughly enjoyable evening with all the men competing to show Natalie who had the largest expense account. They were all into middle-age and were flattered to have a pretty young woman in their company. Despite the fact that they were much older than her, their male egos obliged them to flirt outrageously with her the whole night. They knew they wouldn't get anywhere, but their pride demanded that they make the effort. For her part Natalie was happy to be able to enjoy the compliments without the need to rebuff heavy advances or wandering hands.

After several more beers the men came to the unanimous conclusion that it was impossible that an American, and an American woman at that, could know anything about soccer. So they decided to put her to the test.

"Who won this years FA Cup?"

"Who won the UEFA Cup?"

"Who won the Copa America?"

"Who are European Champions?" were all among the questions put to her and Natalie surprised the men, and herself, by managing to answer just about everything they asked. All those hours spent reading the reports that nobody else (apart from Jeremy) looked at were paying off. Finally Frank came up with one last question.

"What's a googly?" he asked.

"Frank, no" admonished Pascal. "That is not fair. I only know that because you told me."

"Its perfectly fair" insisted Frank looking at Natalie.

Natalie considered. It was one of the stupidest words she'd ever heard used in a sporting context. It could surely only relate to one sport.

"Something to do with cricket?" she said.

"Bravo" said Pascal.

"Well you haven't said exactly what it is" said Frank.

"Hey come on" said Natalie. "Would you like me to toss a few baseball questions at you and see how you do?"

"Alright" conceded Frank reluctantly, "I suppose you were close enough."

"Thankyou."

The next day Natalie joined her new friends for the opening ceremony. It was the usual stuff. Lots of dancing school kids, lots of stuff about sport bringing the world together. All very good and wholesome but not very original. As it was to be the subject of her first report Natalie was hoping for something to go drastically wrong to add a little excitement but everything went smoothly. She complained about this to the others.

"How do I report on this?" she asked. "Hi I'm Natalie Hurley. Today in Paris everyone watched a parade, sang a few songs, and listened to some anonymous men in suits make some speeches. Diana Ross did not appear."

"Sounds about par for the course for an opening ceremony" said Frank. "Except for Diana Ross not appearing."

"Nobody expects excitement at opening ceremonies" said Otto. "They are just something that you must do."

"Exactly" said Benito. "Just report what happened, or didn't happen. The exciting things start tomorrow."

"Well its alright for you guys" she said. "You don't have to hold an audience. Nobody's going to go and buy another newspaper if your articles aren't as gripping as a Thomas Harris novel. I, on the other hand, have four minutes of air-time to fill and if my report isn't exciting enough I could be responsible for our entire audience switching channels."

"Well you'll just have to jazz it up a little" said Frank.

"How?"

"Lie?"

"I think I'd better stick to the truth. My producer is funny about things like that."

"How awkward. The printed media is much more liberal about such things."

"Never let the facts get in the way of a good story right?"

"Something like that."

"Well I don't have that option. Any other ideas."

"You could throw in a few interesting football titbits" suggested Pascal.

"Titbits?" asked Natalie reflecting on how odd that word sounded in a French accent. "Such as?"

"Such as the fact that the dance routine with the big orange balls symbolised the events of Christmas 1914" said Frank.

"What happened in Christmas 1914?"

"You don't know?"

"No. That's sort of why I asked."

"Oh its a marvellous story" said Frank.

"Is it?"

"Yes, very symbolic."

"Sounds good. What is it?"

"Well it was Christmas Day 1914 on the Western Front. Suddenly, in the middle of the bloodiest war the world had ever seen, the opposing British and German forces decided to stop killing each other and have a game of football instead."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"That's a great story."

"Isn't it?"

"Very heavy on the symbolism."

"I know."

"Who won?"

"Sadly that is not recorded."

"I guess it doesn't matter. So what happened next?"

"Er, I expect they had a shower and went back to their trenches."

"I meant the next day - and beyond."

"Not sure. I suppose they went back to killing each other."

"That's not so great."

"No, we generally don't refer to that bit."

"And the dance with the big orange balls represented this game of football in 1914?"

"It might have."

"Are we back to lying again?"

"Well we don't KNOW it isn't true."

There were a number of correspondents like Natalie who did not have their own crew with them. So the tournament organisers had set up facilities, complete with camera operator and sound recordist, where they could record, edit and send their pieces. When Natalie arrived to do her first report she had expected to have to exercise her very rusty french on the crew but found that, although the sound recordist, Maurice, spoke no english, the camera man, Jacques, was quite fluent.

They were quite efficient and Natalie recorded her piece without any problems. Finishing up with "...and so in the midst of the bloodiest war the world had ever seen, two opposing armies decided to stop killing each other and have a game of soccer instead. That's the power of sport which was symbolised in the opening ceremony today. Tomorrow the action begins with Scotland taking on champions Brazil. I'm Natalie Hurley, in Paris, for CSC."

The crew were getting ready to leave while Natalie set to work on editing. Before they left, Jacques approached.

"Natalie?"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if you would like to 'ave sex with me tonight."

"Pardon me?"

"I said I was wondering..."

"I heard you I just couldn't quite believe what I heard."

"Pour quoi?"

"Because you don't just come out with a question like that. What did you expect me to say?"

"I was hoping for a yes."

"Do you often get a yes?"

"Not often."

"I'm not surprised. Haven't you ever heard of romance? I thought the French were supposed to be famous for it."

"This way is quicker."

"Well I admit that it certainly saved me some time."

"Is that a non?"

"It most definitely is a non."

Jacques shrugged. He didn't appear to care too much either way. Then Maurice came to his side and whispered something in his ear.

"Would you like to 'ave sex with Maurice?" asked Jacques.

"No!"

Maurice looked a little downcast.

"Are you sure?" asked Jacques. "Maurice 'as been very depressed lately. It would really cheer him up."

"Too bad for Maurice. I'm not here to cure his depression."

Jacques translated this to Maurice. There followed a brief but animated conversation between the two that was too fast for Natalie to follow. Then Maurice gave Natalie a hurt look before departing. Jacques gave her a weak smile, shrugged his shoulders again, them followed his friend leaving Natalie to shake her head in disbelief.

Later on she met up with Frank and the others, less Pascal, in the bar. She told them about what had happened.

"Can you believe they just came right out and asked me to have sex with them?"

"That's continentals for you" said Frank as if it was no surprise at all..

There was a cough from Otto. "Might I remind you Frank that Benito and myself are also continentals" he said.

"Of course" said Frank, "but you're not French."

"This is true."

Frank addressed Natalie again. "So what did you say?"

"What do you think I said?"

"I wouldn't presume to guess."

"Well I said no of course."

"That's what I would have guessed, had I presumed to guess."

"Glad to hear it" said Natalie. "Although" she added conspiratorially, "I almost said yes without thinking. Its the accent, its just too sexy."

"I know what you mean" said Benito. I have to go for a cold shower if the chambermaid says good morning to me."

"So Natalie" said Frank with forced casualness, "how do you feel about English accents?"

"Not quite the same, sorry."

"Dammit."

"How about Italian?" asked Benito.

"Are you kidding?" said Natalie. "I live in New York. Italian accents are a dime a dozen."

Otto didn't bother asking. He'd never heard of anyone being turned on by a German accent - apart from one or two people with somewhat unusual and extreme sexual tastes. Instead he said "We'd better not mention this to Pascal."

"Good God no" agreed Frank.

PHONE HOME

"Great report" said Dana.

"Thanks. It wasn't easy."

"I know. Opening ceremonies are a killer."

"Killer? This one was a mass murderer."

"Well you made it seem interesting. Although I didn't quite see what the orange balls had to do with World War One."

"It was symbolic."

"Well Casey thought it just a load of balls."

"You can always count on Casey for a succinct interpretation of artistic merit. What did Jeremy think?"

"He's gone camping."

"He went without me?"

"So it would seem."

"He won't enjoy it."

"I'm sure he won't. Speaking of which, how's Paris?"

"I love it, but my credit cards may not stay the course."

After the opening match the next day (Brazil 2 - 1 Scotland) Natalie managed to record her report without being asked to have sex with anyone and then went down to the bar. She found Frank and Pascal already there. Frank had a large bottle of scotch on the table in front of him.

"Planning to make a night of it?" she asked.

"It's not for me" said Frank. "It's for my friend Andy at The Scotsman. I always buy him a bottle for him to drown his sorrows with when Scotland are knocked out of the tournament."

"But Scotland haven't been knocked out yet. In fact they did pretty well today, considering they were up against Brazil."

"Yet is the operative word. It will happen soon enough."

"I'll take your word for it. What do you get if England are knocked out?"

"Should the unthinkable occur, I get a bottle of gin."

"Hardly unthinkable" said Natalie, "England have only won once. 1966 wasn't it?"

"It was" said Pascal. "And I am sure that Andy has already bought the gin for England's departure this time."

"Once it maybe" said Frank, "but it is still once more than Scotland OR France."

"And like all Englishmen, Frank never stops talking about it" countered Pascal. "Except when Benito and Otto are here. He can't match Italy and Germany."

Frank had no counter for this so he looked around for a change of subject. "Here comes La Model" he commented nodding towards the door.

Natalie turned to see that a woman had entered, She was very tall, very blonde, and she was almost wearing something that might just be a dress when it grew up. "Who's she?"

"Her name is Maria Milani" said Pascal.

"Is she here for the tournament?"

"Oh yes."

"What for? To entertain the players?"

"Miaow" said Frank.

"I'm not being catty" protested Natalie. "I can't help it if she looks like a hooker."

"Actually" said Pascal, "she is the main presenter on Italy's number one football show."

"She is?"

"Regrettably, yes."

Despite her previous comment Natalie felt she had to defend a fellow female sports broadcaster. "Why regrettably? She's just a woman trying to make her way in the chauvinistic world of sports. I'm a woman in case you hadn't noticed."

"We have noticed little else since you got here" said Frank unable to resist the opening. "But you know what you're talking about, Ms Milani hasn't got a clue. She just sits there and reads whatever is written on the cue cards."

"So how come she got the job?"

"I think that posing for Playboy had a lot to do with it."

"That's outrageous."

"But true" said Pascal. "And sadly effective. The ratings have almost doubled since she took over."

"Wow, wait till I tell Dan and Casey. Who's the guy with her, the miserable looking one?"

"That is Gianni Fontani" said Frank. "And the reason he is looking so miserable is because he is the former main presenter of Italy's number one football show."

"So why is he with her if she took his job?"

"Oh he's still on the show. He's just been demoted to the rank of Ms Milani's sidekick. He does expert analysis, roving reporting, that kind of thing."

"Why doesn't he quit?"

"The rumour is that he has gambling debts" said Pascal. "And no other channel is too keen to offer a job to a man who was replaced by a Playboy centrefold."

And so the days passed. Natalie travelled around France attending matches in various cities and sending off her reports. Whenever in Paris she would attend the daily press conferences given jointly by the French Football Association and FIFA, the games governing body. Because there were several matches taking place in any one day in the early stages she didn't often see her new friends as a group - but she was usually accompanied by one or other of the men who appeared to be sharing her on a rota basis. At the end of the first round she passed Frank in the hotel lobby as she was coming in and he was going out. He was grinning like an idiot.

"What are you looking so pleased about?" she asked.

He waved his bottle of scotch at her. "I'm just going to deliver this bottle of commiseration to Andy" he said.

"Are you going to commiserate with him or will I see you in the bar later?"

"Oh I won't be sharing it with him. Once delivered I shall retire to a safe distance."

"Why, what does he do?"

"I don't really know. All I know is that he will lock his door and not emerge for at least forty eight hours. And it will take about that long for the hotel cleaners to put his room right."

"I'll see you later then."

"Indeed you will."

When Natalie arrived in the bar that evening she found all four men waiting. This time she noticed that they were ALL grinning like idiots. She also noticed that there was a milkshake on the table. A McDonalds milkshake.

"What's this for?"

"To commiserate on the defeat of your team" said Otto.

"A milkshake?"

"Well that was the closest we could come to a national drink of America" said Frank.

"Very funny."

"We thought it rather amusing."

"I bet you did." She paused before asking "What flavour is it?"

"Strawberry."

"Goody. My favourite" she said and took a long slurp. As she did so she noted the rather despondent looks on the faces of her companions. "What's up?" she asked.

"You were not supposed to like it" said Benito.

"I wasn't?"

"No. You were supposed to be annoyed."

"I was? Can I ask why?"

"You have to be annoyed for the joke to work" explained Frank.

"What joke?"

"Our joke. The one we spent all afternoon working out."

"Shall I start again?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"What the hell is this? A milkshake? How dare you insult my country by insinuating that the milkshake is America's only contribution to the world of beverages."

"Steady on."

"I'm living my part."

"We can see that."

"So come on then. Where's the big joke."

"Well its fallen a little flat now" said Frank producing a bottle of bourbon. "We did manage to come up with an alternative national drink" he added.

"That's more like it" said Natalie. "Were you all set to produce it with a flourish?"

"Oh yes."

"Well consider it flourished."

"Thank you."

"You can give it to me know."

"Oh right. Sorry."

PHONE HOME

"I didn't expect you to be there."

"Really?"

"No, Dana said you went camping."

"I did."

"Without me."

"Yes."

"How come you're back early?"

"It rained."

"It rained? You came home because it rained? What kind of camper are you?"

"It rained 40 inches in a single night. The river flooded washing most of our equipment away. And then the landslide fell on what was left."

"Oh. Is that normal weather for this time of year?"

"The park ranger did say it was a little unseasonal."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Good. Have you seen my reports?"

"Yes."

"What did you think?"

"I thought they were very professional."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Aren't you going to ask me how Paris is?"

"How's Paris."

"Oh you know. Ok. Just an endless round of hotels and soccer matches."

"You're loving it aren't you?"

"You bet."

"Have you been propositioned by all those French men?"

"Some. But they weren't very good at it."

"Have you seen Jean-Paul?"

"Jean-Paul who?" asked Natalie trying to remember if it was the name of one of the French team.

"Ex-boyfriend Jean-Paul."

"You've been talking to Dan."

"I have."

"Well of course I haven't seen him. I haven't seen him for four years. What makes you think I would see him now."

"Well let me see. He's French, he's keen on soccer, and the world cup just happens to be taking place in his home country."

"Jeremy. France is big. Paris is big. Even if he were here the chances of us meeting are pretty slim. And even if we did meet, the chances of me having anything to say to him are even slimmer. You have nothing to worry about."

"Am I being stupid?"

"You are being stupid."

"Ok then. Sorry."

"That's ok."

"I'll ring you tomorrow."

"I'll look forward to it."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Natalie put the phone down and thought for a moment. "I wonder if Jean-Paul IS in town" she mused.

The competition progressed with fewer games now that the numbers of competing teams were being whittled down. France, the hosts and Brazil, the champions, both progressed but England failed in their attempt to reach the last eight. Natalie guessed that Frank would be in the bar and would be in need of some consoling. She was right on both counts.

"I see you have your gin" she said observing the bottle on the table.

"I'm afraid so. Would you care to join me? Unlike my Scottish friend I prefer to share my misery with others."

"Do you have some tonic to go with it?"

"No, but I'm sure that the barman will be happy to oblige us."

"Then I'll join you" said Natalie.

Frank was uncharactaristicly quiet as they sipped their drinks. He was obviously upset at his teams exit from the tournament. Certainly more upset than Natalie had been at the USA's departure but then she had never had any illusions about that. They had done pretty well just to get through the qualifying competition. She tried to cheer him up.

"I thought England played very well" she said.

"Hmmm" said Frank.

"You were actually a bit unlucky to lose."

"Hmmmm."

"If that guy hadn't been sent off."

"Bloody Beckham."

"Or if that third goal hadn't been disallowed."

"Bloody Shearer."

"And technically you didn't lose. The match was tied. The penalty shoot-out was just to decide who went through."

"Bloody penalty shoot-outs."

Natalie was getting desperate. "Well I thought it was a very gutsy performance. And young Owen did very well. A definite star for the future there." Curiously, this was exactly how just about every English newspaper, including Frank's, reported the defeat the next day.

As the evening went on Frank became increasingly maudlin. Natalie had noticed that he didn't drink much as a rule, particularly not spirits, and she was beginning to see why. He quickly left the subject of England's deficiencies on the soccer pitch and treated Natalie to a list of his other woes. He briefly lamented on the state of his love life and cast a hopeful look at Natalie.

"Making me feel sorry for you is not going to make me want to jump into bed with you" she told him firmly.

Frank abandoned that course of action and moved to the real bane of his life. "In over twenty five years in journalism I've never once had a big story" he complained.

"The world cup is a pretty big story" said Natalie. "It may be small beer in the USA but in England its like the Super Bowl and the World Series rolled into one."

"It would be" said Frank, "IF we won it. I was still at school in 1966. I started work on the local paper in 1970 and we haven't won a bloody thing since."

Natalie didn't know what to say to that but she didn't need to. Frank hadn't finished. "And its not just football, or even sport in general. I didn't set out to be a sports reporter you know. I wanted to cover the big stories. Instead I covered a local football match one day when no-one else was available and never stopped."

"There's nothing wrong with being a sports journalist" protested Natalie. "People get a lot of pleasure out of sport - it's important."

"But look at all the stories I've missed" moaned Frank. "Watergate, the Falklands, Ethiopia, Iraq, the Berlin Wall, Nelson Mandela."

"Well what about Muhammed Ali, Mark Spitz, Bjorn Borg, Carl Lewis...." Natalie desperately tried to think of some British names, "...Daley Thompson, Coe & Ovett, Torville & Dean?"

"Oh don't get me wrong" said Frank. "I love sport. It's exciting, its dramatic, it gets the heart racing."

"Exactly" said Natalie feeling she was breaking through at last.

"But nothing I've seen has been earth-shattering. Nothing I've reported on has changed the world."

"Well who has?" said Natalie reasonably. "Besides" she added, "people remember the event - not the reporter."

"There's a man called Kenneth Wolsthenholme" said Frank, "who commentated on the 1966 World Cup." Natalie sighed as Frank continued. "In the dying seconds he said the words some people are on the pitch, they think its all over...'. Then Geoff Hurst scored England's fourth goal and Kenneth added, ...it is now'." He looked intently at Natalie. "Everyone in England knows those words and who said them."

Natalie decided that drastic measures were called for. She picked up what was left of the bottle and the glasses. "Why don't we finish this off up in your room?" she said sweetly. Frank's eyes lit up with hope and he followed her like a puppy. They lay down on top of the bed and chatted about nothing much. As Natalie expected, Frank was asleep in minutes. Natalie removed his shoes and left him to sleep it off.

"....and so we have a dream line-up for the final on Saturday. The hosts versus the champions. France versus Brazil. I'm Natalie Hurley, in Paris, for CSC." Natalie finished recording her latest report. "Thanks guys" she said to Jacques and Maurice.

"Natalie?" said Jacques hopefully.

"No" said Natalie.

Natalie was early for the daily press conference. It was held in a large room lined with soccer memorabilia which she had yet to have a chance to examine. She strolled around looking at the ancient shirts, boots and trophies wondering if she could work a few interesting historical facts into her reports. Suddenly the door that the officials usually came through burst open and a small man rushed in, clearly in a panic about something.

"Merde, merde, merde" he said as he hurried over to the main doors, the ones that the assembled press would soon be coming through, and locked them.

"Merde, merde, merde" he repeated. Natalie's French wasn't THAT rusty so she guessed that something was amiss. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"The cup. It is gone. Stolen." The man seemed like he was talking to himself rather than to her.

"Stolen?"

"Oui."

"You mean the cup. The WORLD cup."

"Oui."

"The actual trophy?"

"Oui."

"When? How?"

"We do not know. It was there. Then it was gone."

"Wow, this is big news."

"Non, non. It must not be big news. It would be a great embarrassment to France. We must not let the press know about this until we have got the cup back."

"Right. I see."

He looked at her as if suddenly seeing her for the first time. "Oo are you?" he said.

"Natalie Hurley, Continental Sports Channel."

"MERDE!"

"I'm afraid so."

"I did not say anything understand?" said the man in a panic.

"I think you did."

"Non!"

"Oui."

"This must not get out."

"I'm afraid it must."

"We need time."

"I'll give you time."

"You will?"

"Yes. My report goes out in ten hours. You have until then."

"Merde."

After an emergency meeting the French FA and FIFA decided to pre-empt Natalie's report by holding a press conference one hour before her report went out. Unfortunately for them Natalie had lied. Her report went out another full hour before their hastily prepared press conference took place.

PHONE HOME

"You are unbelievable Natalie!" Dana was ecstatic having just received Natalie's report..

"I know."

"The whole of the world's media are in Paris and YOU get an exclusive like this."

"I know."

"Everyone's singing your praises."

"I should hope so."

"Isaac says he thinks you're after my job."

Silence.

"I said, Isaac thinks you're after my job."

"I heard you."

"Don't even think about it."

"Well give me something else to think about."

"Like what?"

"Like a raise."

"You want a raise?"

"I think I deserve one. Or should I speak to Isaac about it?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you!"

The four men stood up and applauded as Natalie entered the bar. They had a bottle of champagne laid on.

"All hail the ace reporter" declared Frank.

"Aw shucks" said Natalie "'tweren't nothin'."

"Au contraire" said Pascal. "It was amazing. How did you find out?"

"I'm afraid I can't reveal my sources."

"Never mind about that" said Frank, "have some champagne." He handed her a glass.

"A toast" said Otto. "To Natalie."

"To Natalie!" chorused the men and Natalie felt the warm glow of peer approval.

"Actually I should be angry with you" said Frank.

"Why?"

"I had the same story but you got it out first."

"You're kidding?"

"No. We were already to go with out an exclusive when we got a call to say that some American woman had scooped us."

"I'm sorry."

"Think nothing of it" he said. "I said that I could forgive that face anything."

"Even this?"

"It's a close call but yes, even this."

"So how did you find out?"

"I'm sorry but I can't reveal my sources."

Later on the conversation naturally turned to who had done the deed.

"Well if they didn't have a chance of winning it I'd say it was a typical French trick" joked Frank.

Pascal chose to ignore the jibe. "The question is why? What is there to be gained?"

"It must be pretty valuable" said Natalie.

"Of course" said Benito "but how could anyone sell such a thing?"

"Maybe it was taken by someone with a grudge against France or Brazil?" said Otto. "To stop them being presented with the trophy."

"Maybe" said Natalie. "But it wouldn't stop them winning. FIFA would just make another trophy."

"Natalie is right" said Pascal. "The only motive that I can see is to embarrass France."

"Who would want to do that?" asked Frank.

"Terrorists maybe" said Otto.

"Or eco-warriors angry about nuclear testing" suggested Natalie.

"But how did they get it" asked Benito. "Wasn't it guarded?"

"Security was remarkably lax" said Frank.

"They just didn't expect anyone to steal it" said Pascal.

"Just carelessness if you ask me" said Frank, deciding to wind up Pascal a little.

"I seem to remember that YOU lost it in 1966" countered the Frenchman.

"Yes" said Frank, "but we got it back."

"Thank's to a little doggie called Pickles."

"That's right. Should I see if he'll come out of retirement?"

"Alright boys" said Natalie, "stop it. If you can't play nicely you can go to your rooms."

The men apologised and the conversation went on, without any resolution, until they all drifted away to bed.

The next day there seemed to be some progress in the police investigation. Strands of Gianni Fontani's hair were found in the room where the trophy had been kept and he had no alibi for the time that the cup was thought to have been stolen. The police considered it sufficient evidence to arrest him. The rumour among the press was that Maria Milani had tipped the police off, and was denying Gianni's claims that he had been with her at the time. She was also telling anyone that would listen that his motive was jealousy. He wanted to spoil her first world cup as presenter.

"This is the end of his career" said Otto.

"He's innocent" said Frank.

"What makes you say that?" asked Benito. "I know him better than you and I couldn't say that with any certainty."

"Because... because I just don't think he did it."

"He has been very depressed recently" said Benito.

"So has Maurice" said Natalie "only he had a different cure in mind." The men gave her puzzled looks but she didn't offer an explanation.

"He must have done it" said Pascal.

"He didn't do it!" insisted Frank. "He didn't."

"Then who did my friend?" said Pascal.

"I'm going to my room" said Frank and walked away from the group.

"I had no idea he was so fond of Gianni" said Otto.

"Maybe he isn't feeling well" suggested Benito.

"I'll go check on him" said Natalie and headed of in the direction taken by Frank.

"Who's there?" asked Frank when Natalie knocked on his door.

"Natalie."

"Hold on a minute" said Frank and a few moments later the door opened.

"Hi" she said.

"Hi."

"Can I come in?"

"I suppose so."

"You suppose so? I'm offended. I thought you would jump at the chance to get me in your room."

Frank smiled but it was a weak smile. "I must be losing my mind" he said.

"That is the only conceivable explanation. Do you want to try again?"

"Ok. Natalie, please step into my boudoir."

"Thank you" said Natalie and entered, "but do men have boudoirs?"

"I have no idea."

"I don't suppose it matters. This is the nineties after all. Equal opportunities and all that."

"Indeed. So what can I do for you."

"We were worried."

"About me?"

"Yes, you didn't seem quite yourself."

"Well you don't have to worry. I'm fine." He looked as if he wanted Natalie to leave but she pretended not to notice.

"So I suppose you'll be supporting Brazil tomorrow?" she said.

"Er no actually. I'd quite like France to win."

"But I thought that Brazil was supposed to be everybody's second favourite team."

"You thought right. But Brazil have won just a mite too often for my liking."

"So you're jealous?"

"Perish the thought. I'm just supporting my European Union partners."

"And I thought the British and the French didn't get along so well."

"You thought right again. But we are all now one big happy Euro family so we are trying to put all that behind us."

"I see."

"Did you come up here just to ask me that?"

"No. Not just that."

"What then? Has my luck changed?"

Natalie didn't smile."I'm afraid not."

"So what's on you mind?"

"I have to ask you something."

"Ask away."

"Where is it Frank?"

"Where's what?" he said but he already knew that she knew.

"You know" said Natalie who knew that he knew she knew.

Frank looked at her and she met his gaze. "How did you know?" he asked.

"It wasn't hard. I know how much you want the big story. What bigger story could there be than the World Cup being stolen right before the final."

Frank smiled. "I almost had it too" he said, "before you scooped me.".

"I thought you had forgiven me for that."

"I have. Besides there is another story that's just as big as the cup being stolen."

"Like the cup being found?"

"You're so sharp its a wonder you don't cut yourself."

"I know. We're you going to discover it yourself?"

"I thought it would make a nice touch."

"And what about Gianni Fontani?"

"What about him?"

"Did you plant the evidence against him?"

"Do you think I did?"

"I'm hoping not."

"Well I didn't. It's my guess that Maria Milani has seen another opportunity to further her career and is trying to finally get rid of poor old Gianni."

"So what do we do now?"

"We can both discover the cup. Share the story and the glory."

"I don't think so."

"Well then I suppose it's up to you. I am completely in your hands - though not in the sense that I would have liked."

"Do you never give up?"

"Not where beautiful women are concerned."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Well it certainly hasn't so far."

Natalie had to laugh. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Precisely what I was wondering."

"Any suggestions?"

"You could let me carry on with my plan."

"I don't think I can do that."

"Well then. You must do what you must do."

"...and so, in a bizarre parallel with 1966, the cup was discovered under a bush by a man walking his dog. And discovered just in time to be presented to France, the new world champions. I'm Natalie Hurley, breathless after a bizarre few weeks in Paris, for CSC."

There was a knock at Natalie's door. She opened it to find Frank stood there, suitcase in hand.

"Hello Natalie."

"Hi Frank."

"I've just come to say goodbye."

"Goodbye? But the others have left all left as well. Who am I going to have a drink with tonight?"

"Just turn up in the bar. I'm sure you won't be short of offers of company without the four of us as chaperons."

"Maybe. But I'm sure the company won't be half as charming."

"Well I could be persuaded to stay" said Frank raising his eyebrows.

"Yes and I bet I know how."

"No?"

"No."

"Ah well. It was worth one last effort."

"I would have been disappointed if you hadn't tried."

"Not as much as I would" said Frank.

There was a silence which Natalie moved quickly to fill. "Did you hear that Maria Milani was arrested for planting evidence?"

"Yes" said Frank. "I heard." There was another brief silence before he continued. "Natalie" he said.

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to say thanks....for not turning me in."

"You already said thanks."

"Once is not enough."

"That's what my boyfriend says."

Frank looked shocked."You never said you had a boyfriend."

"You never asked. Besides, did you really think a hot chick like me would be single."

"Good point."

"I thought so."

"Just one question."

"What?"

"Does he deserve you?"

"What?"

"I'm serious. Does he deserve you?"

"I guess so."

"You don't sound too sure."

"Well it's not a question I've ever asked myself before."

"Well do me a favour."

"What?"

"When you get home. Ask yourself that question. And make sure you never settle for anyone who isn't worthy of you."

"Ok" said Natalie. What else could she say?

"Promise?" insisted Frank.

"I promise."

Frank bent over and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Then he left leaving Natalie so stunned that she had to go and sit on the bed.

She was still sat there a few moments later when, unseen, a figure appeared in the still open doorway.

"Hello Natalie" said a voice in a French accent.

Natalie turned round and immediately recognised the man stood there.

"Jean-Paul!" she said. "Fancy meeting you here."

THE END


End file.
